


Small Favours

by Tangerine



Category: Gambit (Comic), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Friends With Benefits, M/M, Porn With Plot, Smoking, Undercover as a Couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:22:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22780141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangerine/pseuds/Tangerine
Summary: Gambit and Pete Wisdom are on a mission, though it may not be the same one.(Or, Gambit is bored, and Pete suffers the consequences).
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Pete Wisdom
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22
Collections: Trope Bingo: Round Fourteen





	Small Favours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BlitheFool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheFool/gifts).



> Takes place after Gambit (vol. 5) #14.
> 
> Written for the "FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS" square for Round 14 of [Trope Bingo](https://trope-bingo.dreamwidth.org/).
> 
> This is what happens when you finally read Gambit vol. 5, and you get _ideas_ in your head, and your Gambit-loving _and_ Pete-loving friend urges you on. Blithe, this is all yours. Thanks for the awesome bits of dialogue (.... which I then pinched)! Enjoy!

After spending the last week cooped up in the upper floor of a London townhouse with Pete Wisdom, Remy was glad to breathe fresh air again. Or as fresh as it could be with so many bodies squeezed into a stuffy ballroom as polite servers glided through the crowd with silver platters of hors d'oeuvres.

Remy snatched another couple bacon-wrapped water chestnuts as they passed him by.

 _Délicieux_ , he thought, savouring the taste. 

As he popped the last one into his mouth with a blissful sigh, he took the time to tuck the toothpicks he'd saved into his breast pocket. If past experience with Wisdom was any indication, there was a high likelihood of this job going to shit. Remy was the type of guy who liked to be prepared for anything. 

From across the room, Pete glared at him, but Remy merely pressed his fingers to his lips and blew a kiss, enjoying the look on Wisdom's face as he did it. They'd hadn't been able to agree on the cover story, so Remy had taken matters into his own hands. He'd washed and styled his hair, shaved his face smooth and picked the most stylish, form-fitting suit from the options offered. He'd even found a pair of heavy-rimmed glasses, the lenses some MI13 invention that hid the red-on-black colour of his eyes.

Remy didn't look like himself, so he took it one step further and didn't act like himself either.

It served Wisdom right for insisting neither of them could go anywhere until MI13 gave the okay.

Boredom wasn't something Remy had ever handled particularly well, so it had been time to make things more interesting. It was unfortunate that Pete hadn't been willing to play along. Unlike Remy, he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and into the closest wrinkly suit. He hadn't even brushed his hair.

As usual, it would be up to Remy to do all the work.

Remy pushed off the wall where he had been slouching and made his way over to Pete, who looked torn between lighting him on fire with those finger knives of his and waiting to see what Remy planned to do. The people at the party were still slightly suspicious of Wisdom – rightly so, in Remy's opinion, considering they were planning on stealing from the host – but Remy was confident he could fix that.

"Introduce me to your lovely new friends, cher?" Remy asked as charming as he could manage.

"This is... Ronan," Pete said flatly to the people gathered around them. "He's American."

"Cajun," Remy added, pouring a little honey into his drawl. It had a predictable effect.

As Pete made the rounds, Remy kept demurely at his side, casing the room and all its inhabitants. Pete grew increasingly annoyed at Remy's genial presence beside him. Remy kissed all the ladies' knuckles and shook all the gentlemen's hands. He even occasionally pressed his hand into the small of Pete's back, intimate without being too loud about it. Through it all, Wisdom stood stiff as a bo staff.

"Will you fucking cut it out?" Pete finally snapped, under his breath, when they had a moment alone.

"Nah, cher, I don't think so," Remy replied, grabbing a passing crab rangoon and plopping it into his mouth. "There's no fun in that. 'Sides... we all have our parts to play, don't we? You came to me."

Pete sighed deeply. "Why did I think this was a good idea?" he asked, rubbing a hand across his scruffy face. He hadn't bothered to shave either. "I'm a git. That's the only answer. I need a bloody drink."

"Leave that to me," Remy told him, dragging a finger down Pete's jaw before sauntering away.

Wisdom stared after him, outraged and spluttering, and Remy felt better than he had in days.

Established as Pete's handsome but ultimately harmless lover – or, rather, the boy-toy of George Johnston, a reclusive millionaire from Birmingham – Remy helped himself to more appetizers. As he ate, he memorized more faces in the crowd, especially the ones he thought might be security.

There were more than either of them had expected. Remy tucked a few more toothpicks away.

Wisdom was asking for one hell of a favour, especially after they'd finally called it even. At least he'd come to the best, and Remy liked people being in his debt. He'd agreed before realizing it meant spending a week in a hovel with Wisdom staring at him from across a room like a miserable excuse for a guard dog. Remy preferred working jobs like these alone, but he hadn't been given a choice.

Something about this whole thing still wasn't sitting right with him. The host – a handsome older man with a professor of a wife, who had shaken Remy's hand when he'd tried to kiss hers – looked too relaxed for a man whose house held something that MI13 had been willing to give up their most powerful field commander for. Especially a job with no firm timeline. Remy still barely knew the details about what he was expected to steal, except it was in this house and Pete had major trust issues.

 _Quelle surprise_ , Remy thought, snatching a pig-in-a-blanket as it glided tantalizingly under his nose.

Remy was a man of simple pleasures, and they had always been his favourite.

Pete continued to glare at him. _Pro'ly thirsty_ , Remy thought with a sly smile, drawing it out a little longer.

Once Wisdom had suffered enough, Remy got him his drink and returned to him. With one hand, he passed over the martini. With the other, he drew Pete close, his fingers curled possessively around his waist. "It's worse than we thought, cher," Remy murmured into his ear, his lips brushing Pete's cheek.

"Begging off already?" Pete muttered darkly. "Thought you had bigger bollocks than this."

"Just stating the obvious, mon amour," Remy said, smiling faintly, turning his whisper into a bit of a nuzzle, just to piss Wisdom off. "And just for the record? My balls ain't ever got any complaints."

Pete closed his eyes and sighed. "What the fuck did I do to deserve this?" he asked, draining his martini.

Remy chuckled warmly, resisting the urge to press a quick kiss to his cheek just to see him tip over the edge. Instead, he pulled back a bit, eyes scanning the room again. He knew how these things went – people would get drunker and louder as time went on, and then it would be easy to pull Pete away from all the excitement and towards somewhere more private. In this case, the uncrackable safe Remy was expected to break into. 

Not quite as fun as sex, but definitely a close second.

Remy drifted away again, chatting with anybody who would chat with him, gauging the diminishing sobriety of the crowd. He spoke confidently about the dreadful weather, was up-to-date on the latest Corrie and had absolutely zero political opinions. He played the part of Pete's docile lover perfectly.

Once the atmosphere was exactly where he wanted it, Remy returned to Pete's side.

"Sincerest apologies," Remy said to the group, putting on his most seductive smile, folding a hand intimately over the bend of Pete's elbow, "but if I could steal my beau away for a bit, _s'il vous plaît_? I promise I'll return him in the shape I took him in. It won't be more than a moment."

"Longer than that, I hope," one of them said, tipping his glass and earning appreciative laughter.

Pete went pink, either from anger or embarrassment; Remy couldn't tell with that pallid complexion.

"I'm too bloody sober for this," Pete grumbled once they were out of earshot. He shook Remy's hand off his arm. Remy let him go with an easy shrug, though he stayed close behind as they moved down the corridor, away from the din of the party. Pete walked like a man who had memorized the blueprints.

"You had all week to think of a cover story, mon ami, and you didn't. We all live with our choices. 'Sides, most people can appreciate the need for a quickie at a house party. Been fucking you with my eyes all night for a reason," Remy pointed out, thoroughly enjoying the glare the comment earned.

"As if I'd ever shag you," Pete replied after an incredulous moment.

Remy's grin grew a little more sly, his gaze sweeping over Pete's body, and Pete rolled his eyes.

"Let's just fucking do this so I can go back to my flat and finally have some peace." They took one last right, and then they were exactly where they needed to be. "Did you manage to get anything past security that might actually be useful or did you just let them feel you up for shits and giggles?"

"They were thorough, just like all those files you made me read said they would be," Remy agreed with a grin. "Keeping that in mind, I came in empty-handed, but you don't gotta worry, Pete. I got this."

In addition to his collection of toothpicks, Remy had borrowed several pieces of silverware from the dessert table, three ladies' hairpins, a metal nail file, and a nice Rolex just to keep track of the time.

Not his best haul, admittedly, but by far not his worst either.

"Then get on with it," Pete replied, exasperated.

Remy, having been around the block a few times, tried the door first, ignoring the displeased sound Pete made, but Remy had gotten lucky before. And would again, it seemed. The door swung open easily under his hand. Pete swore under his breath, but it didn't have to mean their intel was bad.

"After you, mon amour," Remy said with a bow.

Pete entered the room first, carefully looking for any sign of enhanced security. Remy's glasses, not just for decoration, didn't pick up anything to be worried about – no lasers, no tripwires, no cameras. Just a room with a large mahogany desk in the centre and some poorly done counterfeit paintings on the wall.

"Fuck me," Pete said.

"Maybe later," Remy murmured, brushing past him. He checked all of the usual hiding spots, looking for buttons under the desk or books that appeared out of place. As Pete moved around behind him, rifling through the contents of the desk, Remy tapped his fingers over the wall, listening for changes.

"Anything? Or is someone getting fired tomorrow?"

"Looks like we got the wrong party," Remy said, turning around and leaning back against the wall. Pete sat at the desk, looking thoroughly unimpressed by the turn of events, but it had been a risk. The bugs in the house across the street from their stakeout had been expertly placed, but the inhabitants had been just as good. Vague at best, speaking in code that they'd only half-cracked. "Thought it was a bit tame."

"Then why didn't you bloody say something before?" Pete ground out, red-faced again.

Remy shrugged. "The hors d'oeuvres were good."

Pete opened his mouth, but suddenly there were footsteps in the hallway. Remy paused, listening, as the door to the next room opened and the person went inside. The sounds that followed told Remy everything he needed to know: security making the rounds, checking for anything out of place.

Remy looked at Pete, who sighed. "Fine," he said, pushing to a stand, "but look convincing."

"Careful what you wish for," Remy replied, only half teasing as Pete started untucking his own shirt.

Remy crossed the room in five steps, pushing Pete against the wall and sliding a thigh between his legs. The kiss came first, soft and gentle, pulling a startled noise out of Pete's throat that almost sounded real. With one deft motion of his hand, Remy dealt with the fly of Pete's pants and the belt around his waist before slipping that touch beneath the zipper. Pete inhaled sharply at the touch, but Remy didn't have time to dwell on what that meant. He still had the scene to set, and Pete didn't look wrecked quite yet.

Remy continued to kiss him, consciously keeping his one roaming hand pressed just above the swell of Pete's dick, letting his tongue have all the fun instead. Remy licked over Pete's mouth, teasingly, not quite inside yet but making its intention clear. Pete smelled faintly like gin and stale cigarettes, which Remy had never minded, on himself or anyone else. Pete still felt a little stunned, a little too stiff against Remy's pressing body, like he was surprised by how far Remy was willing to take their cover.

Remy, who had done far more to people he liked far less, just kept kissing him, tongue making its first bold move into Pete's mouth, pressing at his lips. Closer but still not quite there. Remy was getting a bit annoyed. They'd spent a week in each other's company, long enough for Remy to get a handle on him.

Remy could always tell when someone was attracted to him. It made hooking up wonderfully easy. And Pete wanted him. Remy was sure of that. It was why Remy had picked the cover he did. There was some element of truth in it. Always worked better that way, in his experience. And way more fun, too.

He just needed Pete to give in to his desire. A small ask – a small _favour_ – all things considered. They'd been playing at this all week, letting this unexpected thing build between them. Remy hadn't been sure which way it'd ultimately go, but he'd had his hopes. Pete was exactly his type. 

As the door opened, Remy pressed closer, making it impossible for either one of them to deny how hard they were, slotted together like puzzle pieces, and Pete finally submitted to him. Remy felt him shiver as he opened up that sarcastic mouth of his and let Remy's tongue in as deep as it wanted to go.

 _Ah, there we go_ , Remy thought as Pete's hand came up, burying his fingers in Remy's hair.

The door opened, both of them pretending not to have noticed. The security guard cleared his throat.

"Fuck off," Pete growled. Remy couldn't tell if he was in character or not. He supposed it didn't matter.

"Sorry, gents, just doing my job," the guard said apologetically. "I'll leave you to it."

"You just do that," Pete said, still sounding wrecked, and Remy thought maybe it mattered after all.

The security guard backed out of the room, shutting the door behind him. Remy left the next move up to Pete, who made the easy one. Remy tried not to look disappointed as Pete stepped away and started haphazardly tucking his shirt back into his pants. He looked freshly fucked, which was more the pity. 

Give more time, Remy could have done better. It was easy to picture falling to his knees with Pete pressed up against that fancy mahogany desk, moaning as Remy sucked him. Or, even better, Remy on his belly, splayed out over the cool wood as Pete fucked him from behind, spurred on by the risk of discovery. There were so many things they could have done, and they had only managed a single kiss.

"Was the tongue really necessary?" Pete asked with a glare, still working at tucking his shirt in.

"You said look convincing, cher." Remy shrugged. "I convinced."

"Hm," Pete said, scrubbing a hand through his hair. Remy watched him through hooded eyes, arms crossed in front of him, posture intentionally relaxed and nonthreatening. Remy was still semi-hard, cock very much interested in the possibilities, and Pete's pants did nothing to hide his own hard-on.

"What now?" Remy asked, despite having a few ideas of his own.

"Go back to that fucking jail of a townhouse and see where we went wrong. And this doesn't let you off the hook, Cajun," Pete added, glaring daggers in Remy's direction. Remy shrugged easily. He hadn't thought it did. Besides, the longer he stayed in England, the longer he stayed away from Westchester, and if he played his cards right, he thought he might get laid. He loved a good win-win situation.

Pete finished buttoning his pants then glanced in Remy's direction. "Ready?"

"And willing," Remy replied easily, enjoying the soft snort of derision that earned from Pete.

"I hate myself for being impressed with how quickly you got a hand in my trousers," Pete admitted.

Remy smiled. "Pretty good, non?"

"Your ego doesn't need any more bloody stroking." Remy's smile sliced even wider, and Pete made an exasperated noise that was clearly directed at both of them. "You know what I fucking meant. Stop grinning like a fiend, and let's get out of here. I left my pack of smokes in my other jacket."

"Sure thing, boss," Remy replied.

Pete stopped at the door then turned around, looking back over the room. "Wasn't I wearing a belt?"

"Were you?" Remy responded with a faint shrug. "Sorry, mon ami, I didn't notice."

"Hm," Pete said, after a moment, and let the matter drop. 

Before they left, Remy went through the effort of offering a few well-placed farewells. The job wasn't done, and he didn't like burning bridges with marks he might need in the future. Pete waited by the door as Remy weaved through the room, scowling deeply. Remy thought he looked sexually frustrated.

Outside, Pete hailed a taxi with a loud whistle and bodied Remy inside. They rode in silence to the address Pete had given, blocks away from where the townhouse was. Once they were sure they hadn't been followed, they walked in amiable silence back to their hideaway and ascended the creaky stairs.

"Need anything before I shower?" Remy asked as they entered the room they'd been holed up in for a week. It smelled like cigarettes, booze, and forgotten takeout. There were piles of papers and clothing all over the floor and a single double-sized bed pushed into a corner. The entire building was condemned, which explained the level of luxury they'd been submitted to, but it was cozy. 

"Lemme take a piss first then it's all yours," Pete said, brushing past him.

Remy's cock hardened at the hint of a touch. Under his breath, he chuckled ruefully to himself.

Remy waited by the door as Pete did his business, giving him plenty of room as he stomped back into the space. Remy ducked into the bathroom and shed his clothes, leaving them in a mountain on the floor. He turned the shower as hot as it would go – not very, but for once he appreciated the tepid water – and scrubbed the gel out of his hair with an impatient hand. He took a little longer with the rest of his body, most of his attention spent on his groin and ass but also taking the time to wash between his toes.

He and Pete still had a little business to sort out. 

Remy stepped out of the shower and into the robe hanging on the back of the door. A gift from the townhouse's former inhabitants, it was a silky pink thing that didn't hide much. Pete hadn't ever put it on, which suited Remy fine. He cinched it around his waist then sauntered back into the main room.

Pete was sprawled in one of the armchairs, a cup of tea in one hand, a mug of coffee in the other and a bottle of booze abandoned at his feet. His pack of smokes sat on his knee, but Remy could tell by the scent in the room that he hadn't lit one up. It would have been a feat of superhuman dexterity to manage all four. Though that could be a fun game for a later when they were back to boredom and annoying the shit out of each other. It would be all well and good until one of them tried to drink the cigarette.

Remy snorted softly, amused by the image, and Pete looked up at him with a scowl.

"Couldn't decide which I wanted more," Pete explained, a defensive little edge to his voice.

"Would never question a man's choice of vices," Remy replied easily, dropping into the opposite chair.

"We really fucked that up," Pete commented idly, taking a sip of his tea then swapping it out for the pack of cigarettes. He offered one to Remy, who regretfully declined, resisting temptation. "Thought I was used to the way government works by now. If there's a way to fuck up, someone will find it."

"Didn't mind getting out for the night." Remy reached for Pete's abandoned cup of tea, and Pete pushed it over, knowing Remy had developed a taste for it. "Made a couple promising connections, didn't we?"

Pete snorted. "That was all you. You can charm the pants off anyone, can't you?"

Remy laughed. "What can I say, mon ami? It's a skill. Doesn't help I was born with this face, non?"

"Git," Pete said, sounding almost fond, and Remy laughed again.

They sat for a bit in amiable silence. Remy let his legs drift apart, watching through lowered eyelids how Pete's gaze followed the movement, lingering on his crotch. The flimsy robe wasn't hiding much, and when Remy shifted again, the slippery fabric slipping over his shoulder, baring a dusky nipple. If Remy moved one more time, the tie around his waist would come undone entirely. Pete knew it, too.

"Fuck," Pete breathed, forcing his gaze to meet Remy's amused one, "you aren't exactly subtle, are you?"

"Why waste subtle on a sure thing?" he asked.

Pete puffed more intently on his cigarette, still playing a little coy, but the crotch of his dress pants had filled out nicely, tented between his legs. Remy had a long list of complaints about the suits Pete wore, but how they looked over his cock wasn't one of them. "Does this approach usually work for you?"

"Wouldn't waste the effort otherwise. What do you say we continue what we started back there?"

Pete snorted again. "You cocky bastard. You just assume everyone wants to fuck you, don't you?"

"Non," Remy replied with an easy grin, draining the last of the ice-cold dregs of his teacup. He leaned forward, the robe falling completely open as planned, "but you? Definitely, and I'm up for it if you are. I can't take another week here watching you cheat badly at cards. Let's try something a bit more fun."

" _You_ cheat at cards, you bloody wanker," Pete said, snuffing out his cigarette.

"Of course I do," Remy confirmed, grinning wider, "but I do it better. So... you wanna fuck or not?"

Pete's eyes moved over Remy's body, starting at his throat and sweeping downwards in a slow, methodical review of the situation. Remy helpfully shrugged out of the rest of the robe, sitting back and giving him the full view. Remy knew he had him already, but he didn't mind previewing the goods.

Moving his hand to his dick, Remy began to stroke his cock, knees drifting even further apart.

"Like what you see, cher?" Remy murmured, hips moving slightly with each pull of his fist.

"You're insufferable enough without me answering that," Pete said, moving a hand to his throat and loosening his tie enough that he could pull it over his head and toss it aside. Without breaking eye contact, Pete tugged his rumpled dress shirt out his waistband and started to quickly unbutton it.

When Pete's fingers moved to his pants, unzipping them and pushing them and his underwear down in one bold movement, Remy stilled on his own dick, worried he'd push himself over without meaning to. _Merde_ , Remy thought, wetting his lips. He'd felt Pete's erection through his pants earlier, but seeing it...

He had to get his hands on it. His mouth. Against him, in him, whatever Pete would give him.

He stood up, leaving the silky robe behind in a pile, and pushed a willing Pete over to the bed, crawling over him. Sprawled on his back, Pete looked up, half annoyed, half aroused, and Remy smiled before he dipped his face, threading his finger through Pete's hair, keeping him still as Remy kissed his mouth.

This time, Pete didn't fight it, just opened under Remy's insistent lips and let his tongue slip inside.

They kissed for longer than Remy thought they would, their cocks pressed between their bodies, demanding but for the meantime ignored. Remy loved kissing. Not just mouths, but throats and shoulders. The warm fluttering skin over a beating heart. That soft swath of skin behind an ear.

"Fuck," Pete breathed, shuddering beneath him, and Remy kissed him there again because he could.

For a while, it was Pete taking everything that Remy gave with a stiff upper lip, a little too _think of England_ for Remy's tastes, but the more Remy moved against him, trying to shatter that facade, the more Pete involved himself. Those rough hands moved across Remy's back, tracing the arc of his spine, cupping the swell of his ass. The movement brought their cocks more firmly together, and Remy's breath caught.

From there, things moved faster. Pete pushed at him, one hand on his shoulder, and Remy took that as a sign he wanted his dick sucked, which Remy was more than happy to oblige. He kissed his way down Pete's body, lingering at his nipples, drawing them into points, before moving down his belly, closer to his prize. Pete's legs spread open, clear in what he wanted, and Remy took his cock into his mouth.

"Fucking hell," Pete muttered, edging deeper between Remy's lips. His hand moved from Remy's shoulder to his hair, guiding him into his preferred rhythm and showing him what he liked. Remy, always a quick study, took over. It'd been a while, but from all the noise, Pete didn't seem to notice.

Remy pulled his mouth off Pete's dick, replacing his lips with his hand. "You liking that, cher?"

"Too bloody much." Pete batted Remy's hand away irritably, skin flushed and pink on his cheeks. Remy was tempted to push, relishing the idea of Pete coming in his mouth, but he slid up beside him instead, not breaking contact for a moment. Pete groaned. "Why are you so fucking attractive? It's infuriating."

"Genetics," Remy said with a grin, laughing as Pete rolled him onto his back. One of Remy's legs immediately came up, rubbing against Pete's hip. His cock arced heavy towards his belly, until now ignored, but Pete curled his fingers around it, stroking the shaft. "Ah, you do know what to do. Good."

"Shut up," Pete said and kissed him filthily.

As they made out, Pete's hand continued to jerk his cock, confident and determined. Remy let him for as long as he could sanely handle it. It felt like a reward for being so good all week. He'd kept the flirting to what he felt was a tolerable level, though he suspected Wisdom would disagree, and had only stolen a glance here or there at Pete's surprisingly toned body and the scars that adorned his skin. 

If he'd seen a flash of that gorgeous cock here and there... there were perks to living in close quarters. 

"You could fuck me," Remy said between kisses, back arching off the bed, practically begging for it.

"Yeah, all right, that's, yeah," Pete replied, breath coming fast. He kept his hands on Remy's hips as Remy rolled onto his belly, sliding half off the bed to reach for his bag. He pulled out a condom and a bottle of lube, tossing them onto the bed. Pete snorted. "Been planning this for a while, have you?"

Remy looked back over his shoulder, grinning. "Never know when you might get lucky, non?"

"I bloody hate you," Pete said, leaning back as Remy climbed over him again and straddled his legs.

Chuckling, Remy rolled the condom over Pete's dick. Swallowing a groan, Pete tipped his head back, and Remy was a little more careful with the lube as he slicked him up. "I think you're lying," Remy murmured, tracing a silky finger down the centre of Pete's chest. "I think you and me are friends now."

"You fuck all your friends?" Pete said, glaring at him through hazy eyes.

"If they want to," Remy replied. "'Least I know no one's gonna steal my fairy grimoire while I sleep."

Pete snorted softly, as close to laughter as Remy had ever heard from him. "Guess you have a point."

"Usually do," Remy replied, settling over Pete's cock and feeling the blunt head poke between his legs. Pete's hands curled around his hips again, thumbs stroking over his skin, and Remy bent his head forward, hair veiling his eyes, chewing his lower lip between his teeth. "Been a while. Jus' a moment."

"If I fucking come before you get there, at least pretend I kept my dignity in the morning."

"Sure thing, cher," Remy murmured, exhaling as he felt his body accept the intrusion, that pleasant burn giving way to sweeter pleasure as he worked Pete in inch by amazing inch. Pete had his eyelids pinched shit, his breathing coming in measured increments. His fingers tightened on Remy's hips.

"Ah," Remy said once he was fully seated, wetting his lips with his tongue, "there we go."

"Fucking hell," Pete muttered as Remy squirmed experimentally. "You're gonna do me in, Cajun."

"I'll send your regrets to the Queen," Remy replied as he rocked his hips, lifting up slightly and settling back down in search of the rhythm he wanted. He pressed one palm to Pete's chest and put the other on his shoulder for leverage, the movement of Pete's cock minimal at first but sliding deeper each time. Pete peeled one hand off Remy's hips and moved it to his cock, stroking him to match his thrusts.

" _Merde_ ," Remy breathed, speeding up even as he fought against the spasms of pleasure spreading through his cock. It just felt too good. That Pete had made him wait a week was a travesty.

Remy leaned back, changing the angle, and Pete groaned beneath him, hips surging up to meet Remy's ass. The muscles in Remy's legs quivered as he resisted coming, wanting to draw it out, to make it last, but Pete's dick felt too perfect inside him, and Pete's hand... he could be a thief, with a touch like that.

But really, the truth was, he didn't want to come first. Not when he could use it to his advantage later.

And there _would_ be a later. Remy would make sure of that. He wasn't done with Pete yet. 

Remy rolled his hips one last time, drawing inner muscles tight, and Pete tipped back his head and groaned, cock twitching in Remy's ass as he came. For a moment, Remy allowed himself to relish in the accomplishment before Pete, his hand still working Remy's dick, pulled Remy right along with him.

 _Merde_ , he thought again, helplessly. 

Collapsing forward, Remy pressed his face to Pete's neck, breathing hard, still rocking his hips a little. 

Eventually, Pete grumbled at him, and Remy carefully climbed off, skimming the condom off his dick and tossing it to the ground. He felt like patting one of them on the back for doing such a good job, but he didn't know who deserved it more. Maybe both of them, he thought, rolling onto the mattress.

He desperately wanted a cigarette, but he felt boneless, not able to trust himself to stand, not yet.

They laid there for a bit shoulder to shoulder, staring up at the dingy ceiling together. Pete's cell phone started beeping with the urgency of an official message, probably to tell them that intel had been shit and they were back to where they started. Remy found he didn't really care. More time for fucking.

After a few more minutes, Pete sat up and started sifting through the pile of clothes on the floor. He kicked Remy's trench coat into the corner before fishing out the same suit he'd worn to the party. He pulled it on, skipping the underpants and the tie, leaving the shirt untucked, then picked up his phone.

"Is that your only suit?" Remy asked, sitting up in bed. He fluffed a few pillows behind his back.

Pete looked up from the screen, finger hovering over the glass mid-scroll. "Maybe."

"But you work for the government?"

"Yeah. That's why I can only afford one suit." He frowned down at his phone, swearing under his breath. He typed something quickly as Remy continued to look at him, noticing a few blooms of darkened skin beginning to reveal themselves from Remy's fervent kisses. "Fuck. I gotta take this."

"'Course, cher. We're still on the job," Remy said, scratching at his naked belly in a comfortable sprawl.

"Yeah, so don't fucking walk behind me with your twig and berries hanging out before I'm finished."

"This is all for you, cher, don’t you worry," Remy assured him, smoothing a hand over his dick, which was plumping up already, eager for another go. They had time enough for it all. And besides, Remy still had Pete's belt tucked away in his coat, and they could have a lot of fun with that if Pete let them.

Pete looked at him, then down at his phone, then back at Remy, eyes watching the movement of Remy's hand. _Yeah_ , Remy thought, watching as Pete turned the video call on and barked at the person who answered. This coming week was going to be so much better. They'd almost be even.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Small Favors - Fan Art](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22847722) by [BlitheFool](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlitheFool/pseuds/BlitheFool)




End file.
